


Christmas Eve Church Service

by Ughilovejohnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Advent Calendar, Caring Sherlock Holmes, Christmas 2020, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Complete, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, POV First Person, Parentlock, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are Parents, Sherlock is a Good Parent, Sherlock signing, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ughilovejohnlock/pseuds/Ughilovejohnlock
Summary: Mummy Holmes STRONGLY urges Sherlock and John to come to church, and also to bring their 11 month old son, Oliver. Sherlock refuses, but John agrees. After Oliver starts fussing in church, Sherlock sneaks out to try and get him to sleep. John- I am not over protective- Watson can only sit still for a little over an hour before he finds his husband and their son.LOTS OF FLUFF I HOPE YOU ARE HAPPY HUMANS.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24
Collections: 2020 Advent Collection Johnlock Style





	Christmas Eve Church Service

John's POV

The lady in front of us turns around once again to glare at us. Sherlock works furiously to calm a fussy 11 month old. 

“Shh, Ollie,” Sherlock whispers while trying to put the dummy in Oliver’s mouth. “Please Oliver.” 

Sherlock seems near desperate as he tries to shush Oliver. He hadn’t wanted to come. Sherlock’s mother invited us to come to church with her and the rest of the family on Christmas Eve and Sherlock initially refused. He used every excuse he could and none of them worked. So he finally pulled the card that Mummy Holmes fell victim to every time: Their son. Sherlock casually called her one day with his epic scheme in mind. 

“Oh Mummy,” Sherlock said, faking dread. “I, unfortunately, have to turn down your generous offer for John and I to join you at church.”

Mummy said something on the other end and Sherlock’s mouth quirked up slightly and then he quickly fell back into character. 

“Mrs. Hudson will be off visiting her sister, Molly is going to Exeter to spend it with her family, and Lestrade will be going to France this year as his mother has fallen ill and they fear she won’t last much longer.” He said, sounding positively devastated. John was impressed, truth be told. Sherlock was a brilliant actor. “John and I have searched and we can’t find a sitter for Oliver anywhere!” 

The excuses were true, all of them, but they both know that someone and Sherlock’s family house could watch Oliver while they were at church. 

Sherlock looked pleased when Mummy asked a question on her end. 

“He’ll be in France with Lestrade! His mother has wanted to meet Mycroft since they got together.” Exclaimed Sherlock. 

All of a sudden Sherlock’s face dropped and a look of panic crossed it. 

“Absolutely not.” Sherlock said flatly. “I couldn’t!” 

The conversation became a bit heated and rushed. 

“He’s not even one, Mummy!” 

“The service is almost six  _ hours _ long! I, as a full grown man, can’t sit still through all of that.”

“Mother, he’s one! He’s a little too old to be swaddled, it could be bad for his motor skills.”

“My husband is an actual doctor!”

“Yes I can tell you did it to Mycroft, have you seen him?”

“Mother, I cannot-” 

Sherlock’s shoulders straightened and he looked at me, wide eyed. 

“Yes, yes- here. Here’s John” 

Sherlock took Oliver out of my arms and continued to stare at me wide- eyed. 

“Hello?” I said. 

_ “John! How are you?”  _ Mummy’s voice greeted me, sounding overly enthused. 

“I’m well, and you?” 

_ “Oh, I actually have a bit of an issue.”  _ Mummy used her sweet voice, she can get me to do almost anything with it. Sherlock sees this. 

“Don’t you dare fall for it, John Hamish Watson.” Sherlock hissed, looking petrified. 

“How can I help?” I asked.

_ “Well, I’m trying to convince Sherlock to bring little Ollie with you both to the service on Christmas Eve.”  _ She drawled. 

My mouth dropped a bit. Oliver sits still just as well as Sherlock. 

“I don’t know, Mummy.” I hesitated. “Oliver and Sherlock, sitting still and quiet for 6 hours? That would truly be a Christmas Miracle.” 

Mummy laughed.  _ “Won’t you please try? If either of them gets too ansty, someone can always step outside for a mo…”  _

“She does make a point, Sherlock.” I said, slightly moving the phone away from my mouth. My husband’s face was pure betrayal and he looked genuinely hurt as he sneered. 

“Fine.  _ Fine.  _ But you’re going to pay,  _ traitor. _ ” He hissed and walked towards the nursery upstairs.

“It seems like we will be going,” I said into the phone, laughing softly. “Although I’m pretty sure I’m sleeping on the sofa tonight.” 

_ “Oh John you’re an angel.”  _ Mummy gushed into the phone.  _ “And if he tries making you sleep on the couch just make him instead.”  _

I chuckled into the phone. 

_ “So I’ll see you all for Christmas dinner as well?”  _ She asked. 

“I’ll make sure you do, Mummy.” I assured her. 

_ “Oh I knew we liked you for a reason. Ta, love. See you then.”  _ Mummy said excitedly. 

“See you then.” I disconnected the line and went to tend to a mopping Sherlock who was in the middle of telling Oliver of how mad of a traitor I was. 

Now Sherlock looks two seconds away from a mental breakdown as Oliver starts fussing again. He has already stepped out twice with him. He shoots me a panicked look as Oliver drops his bee again. I’m just about to suggest we leave when Mummy leans over and whispers something in Sherlock’s ear. He looks relieved. 

“Hand me his bag.” Sherlock says, gathering Oliver and his bee. 

“Where are you going?” I whisper as I hand the bag over. 

“Apparently there’s a nursery downstairs,” Sherlock presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “I know you wanted to listen so just stay up here, come get me when the sermon is over. Hopefully I’ll have convinced Ollie to sleep by then.”

I shoot him a ‘are you sure’ look and he offers me a small smile and nods. He makes his way almost silently out the back. 

I settle down to listen to the sermon, hearing the priest recite the birth of Jesus. I enjoy this. It was a tradition I used to do with my foster family when Harry and I were young. The Johnsons were very religious and even after we phased out of their family, we still attended Christmas Eve service with them, Harry not as often. 

It has been about an hour and I am starting to get antsy. It’s odd, not having a ball of energy, if not two. I try to sit still, but my leg keeps bouncing. I make sure to keep an eye on my phone, just in case Sherlock needs me. 

“It’s through the back door, to the right, down the stairs, make a left, the room all the way at the end of the hallway on the right.” Mummy whispers to me with a knowing smirk on her face. “I was wondering when you would start getting reckless. I’m surprised you all made it this long.”

I feel my face heat up a bit as I whisper, “Thank you.” 

“I’ll come find you all when it’s time to head home.” 

I quickly make my way to the back and down the stairs. As I’m walking down the hallway I hear a deep voice singing. He always sings this song when Oliver is being stubborn and refusing to sleep. Mycroft told me it's Irish and that he was the one who used to sing it to Sherlock. 

_ Lay down your head, _

_ And I’ll sing you a lullaby. _

_ Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay. _

_ And I’ll sing you to sleep, _

_ And I’ll sing you tomorrow. _

_ Bless you with love for the road that you go.  _

I find the nursery and see Sherlock rocking Oliver in a chair. Oliver is gently sucking on his dummy and bouncing his bee softly. 

_ May you sail fair, _

_ To the far fields of fortune, _

_ With diamonds and pearls, _

_ At your head and your feet. _

_ And may you need never to banish misfortune. _

_ May you find kindness _

_ In all that you meet.  _

Sherlock looks up and a blush colors his cheeks. I smile and motion for him to continue. 

_ May there always be angels, _

_ To watch over you. _

_ To guide you each step of the way. _

_ To guard you and keep you _

_ Safe from all harm. _

_ Loo-li loo-li lai-lay.  _

At this point Oliver has started to drift, the only clear sign of him being awake is him clenching his fist around his bees stinger. If we were at home,

Sherlock would be playing his violin to the song as well. It’s a beautiful composition. 

_ May you bring love, _

_ And may you bring happiness. _

_ Be loved in return to the end of your days. _

_ Now fall off to sleep,  _

_ I’m not meaning to keep you. _

_ I’ll just sit for a while and sing lo-li lai-lay.  _

The dummy starts to slow down as Oliver finally starts to fall asleep for real. 

_ May there always be angels, _

_ To watch over you. _

_ To guide you each step of the way. _

_ To guard you and keep you _

_ Safe from all harm. _

_ Loo-li loo-li lai-lay.  _

_ Loo-li loo-li lai-lay.  _

Sherlock takes the dummy from a sleeping Oliver’s mouth as he starts the lullaby again. I walk over from my position of leaning against the doorway and pull a chair up next to Sherlock and lay my head on his shoulder. 

When Sherlock pauses between verses, we can hear the sermon and hymns. What feels like no time at all, I hear a soft chuckle. Both Sherlock and I look up and we see Mummy quickly putting away her phone. 

“It’s over, it’s time to go home.” She smiles softly at us. “I see you got him to sleep. Mycroft’s sleepsong always put you out like a light.” 

Sherlock hisses, “It wasn’t Mycroft’s Sleepsong.”

Mummy laughs softly. “No you’re right, you used to call it the Fae’s Sleepsong.” 

Sherlock is a deep shade of red and I’m trying not to laugh. Mummy helps pack up some of Oliver’s stuff and we walk out of the church. It truly is Christmas, because Oliver stays asleep the whole time. 

I follow Sherlock up the stairs to the room that is serving as a nursery, connected to our room. Sherlock and I work in silent perfection as we set Oliver up for bed, Sherlock humming the lullaby the whole time, occasionally singing. When Oliver is finally ready for bed, Sherlock tucks his bee in next to him and just stares for a bit. In moments like this, I wish I could take a picture. I would take one of him smiling stupidly at our son as he sleeps. I would show it to everyone, anyone who would look. I would scream it on top of the mountains. I would shove it in the faces of every person who called him a sociopath. 

I wish I could take a picture just for myself, too. I wish I could permanently burn this image in my head. I wish I could die with the image of this. 

_ Sherlock looks exhausted. His hair is messy and curls are flying everywhere. The curtain is slightly open and there is moonlight pouring in, lighting up his porcelain skin. As he runs a hand through his black hair, his shirt tightens impossibly further, stretching the plum purple fabric against his chest. His jacket is draped over the chair. He is leaning against the crib, his hand stroking Oliver’s head as he sings the lullaby once more, ‘one more then we’ll go to bed, I promise.’ His face is graced with a small smile and his eyes look sleepy. Filled to the brim with love, his eyes gleam and the skin around them is pulled back in happiness.  _

As he comes to the end of the song. He motions towards our room and I nod. He leans down and presses the softest kiss to Oliver’s head and I follow in suit. We lazily undress once we are in our room, sharing soft kisses and touches along the way. A peaceful sleep finds us quickly and sweetly. My mind keeps replaying the pictures of my husband,  _ my husband, _ singing to our son,  _ our son.  _ I hope every Christmas Eve ends like this. 

  
  
  
  
  


Mycroft's POV

Greg looks tense next to me on the ride back to the hotel. 

“Love,” I whisper, as not to startle him. “Talk.”

He takes a deep breath and puts his head in his hands. “I didn’t think she was that bad, Myc. What if- what if this is really the last Christmas I have with her?” 

“We'll make the most of it.” I kiss his temple. “We are expected, no, my apologies,  _ required  _ for little lunch tomorrow.” 

My jab a joke works as I see a smile smile ghost those precious lips. He leans his head against my shoulder and I put my arm around his shoulder and pull him closer. 

“Tell me about Christmas with your family.” He chuckles softly. “WIth Sherlock.”

“Oh Lord.” I heave an over exaggerated sigh, gaining a laugh from Greg. “He’s not usually that bad. He just doesn’t talk and hardly eats. We used to have more fun when we were younger. I taught him how to ice skate and we would sneak out to the frozen lake late at night.” 

I ponder for a moment, what else to tell him. “Our family liked doing big things with extended family, and then small things with just us. Sherlock liked the smaller things better, as did I.”

“How do you think they did at service?” Greg asks. When John called Greg earlier this morning to wish him a Happy Christmas, Sherlock was freaking out about the service, we could hear him in the background. 

“Oh, I’m sure Mummy told him about the nursery before the halfway point.” I say. Mummy had called me earlier in the week to tell me of her needing to use John to get Sherlock to go to the service with her. 

“He’s good with the kid.” Greg points out. 

“I am sorry to admit that I had my doubts.” I admit. “But I hear he’s wonderful with Oliver.” 

I feel my phone vibrate and I pull it out. 

“Who was it?” Greg asks. 

I show him the text. 

_ Mummy 11.12 _

_ He sings the sleepsong. Look how happy they are. Hope you are having a happy Christmas.  _

_ One attachment: [Video 1.23 minutes]  _

“Sleepsong?” My lover asks from besides me. 

“I used to sing Sherlock an Irish lullaby when he wouldn’t sleep. They refer to lullabies as sleepsongs. It would put Sherlock out immediately.” I respond. 

Greg reaches over and presses play on the video and the screen expands to show us a bigger picture. 

_ Sherlock is sitting in a rocking chair, holding Oliver who is barely holding on to his plushie bee. Sherlock’s curls are framing his face as he softly sings the last verse of the song, his voice soft and low. _

_ May you bring love, _

_ And may you bring happiness. _

_ Be loved in return to the end of your days. _

_ Now fall off to sleep,  _

_ I’m not meaning to keep you. _

_ I’ll just sit for a while and sing lo-li lai-lay.  _

_ John is resting his head against Sherlock’s arm and smiling sweetly at Oliver, his hand cupped around Sherlock’s, cradling their son together. Mummy lets out a small chuckle and both Sherlock and John look up. The recording quickly ends, but the last frame stays displayed. A picture of a tired Sherlock, who looks a bit high, and a love dazed John, both looking at the camera surprised.  _

“I didn’t know Sherlock could sing,” Greg says, sounding breathless. “I didn’t know you could, either.” 

“Yes,” I let the picture on the screen stay up. “It is one of the few talents we both possess. I’m surprised to see he remembers the song so well.” If I were to be honest, I am touched. 

“I know what you mean, posh.” Greg says, yawning. It had been a very long day for him and he deserved to sleep. 

As he dozes off on my shoulder, I start to ponder if we would ever adopt. I can see Greg with kids, he gets so excited when he talks about his, though he hardly ever gets to see them. The way the world is looking now, though, makes me scared to put myself in a position where our relationship means more than just our happiness, where someone’s life depends on both of us being alive and well. I press my lips to his hair and decide to bring the topic up at a different time, let us survive the holiday first. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you humans enjoyed! This is the first one shot I'm posting and I'd really enjoy feedback. 
> 
> Also, I am aware my title sucks, I apologize. If I come up with a better one (highly unlikely) it will change. 
> 
> Stay safe and happy Humans!!


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